Gorgeous Rotten Scoundrel Page 17

  This is not a thing. This is not a thing.

  I think this just became a thing.

  "Good morning," Heath said from behind the kitchen island. His smile radiated with something new.

  "Morning," I said, shrugging with a smile that glowed from the very center of my heart. I looked down, trying to hide my grin.

  "What are you thinking?" he asked, turning to stir something in a pan on the range. He's cooking for me. Swoon.

  "About everything. About last night." He did the panty-dropping shy smirk. "Why, what are you thinking?"

  "Just that you look cute. Like a beautiful mess." I could only imagine the toll last night took on my appearance. I motioned to straighten out my hair. "Leave it. It's adorable. I like seeing what I did to you." Then he winked at me, plating our eggs.

  I bit my lip as my stomach flooded with delicious anxiety.

  "Welcome to my life. Catch," he said, tossing his phone at me. "We made page six. Congrats."

  "What?"

  I unlocked his phone to find an internet article:

  Formerly incapacitated lothario and supermodel, Heath Hillabrand was spotted sucking face with an unknown curvaceous brunette at the very popular White Party in the Hamptons. Spectators watched in disbelief as the festivities moved into a closet. Later that evening, Hillabrand was spotted engaging in a brawl defending the raven-haired beauty's honor.

  "The video's on TMZ," Heath said.

  "Nooo!" I watched in horror as the scene unfolded on his phone. "Do you think he'll sue?"

  "I'd like to see him try. He was assaulting you."

  "You do realize we are ridiculous human beings?"

  "It was the best night of my life." His words stopped me in my tracks, and I felt the ache lurch back for a second, because I felt like this might end, and if it did, I feared that ache would stay for a very long time. "Come eat."

  I joined him at the island, sitting on a barstool. He stayed on the other side, eating as he stood. There was a comfortable but electric silence between us.

  "So he cooks."

  "These eggs have taken me the the apex of my capabilities. What do you think, Miss Chef?"

  "A little overcooked," I said winking at him. "Thank you for breakfast."

  "So...you know I'm going to Paris tomorrow for my first gig since the accident."

  "Yeah..."

  "Why don't you come with?"

  "Me...uh, really? Why? Do you need help?"

  "Not as my assistant."

  "Oh." This is definitely a thing.

  "Don't overthink it. Just come. I was telling the truth last night. I swear to you."

  I was tired of fighting, and last night he finally accomplished his goal of fucking the bitch out of me. At least regarding this.

  "But, I was supposed to see Nonna."

  "She's doing fine, right? It's just a couple of days. How often do you get to pick up and go to Paris? I'm sure she'd want you to go."

  He was right, she would. She was always a romantic and she always wanted me to find love especially because that was my only chance of having a family outside of her. In fact, after my brutal breakup with Kenneth, it was my grandmother who begged me not to let that experience ruin my ability to trust and love.

  "I've never been to Paris," I said, already envisioning the millions of things I would want to cram into such a short visit.

  "All the more reason to go."

  "Won't you be working the entire time?"

  "I extended the trip a day, so we'll be sure to have time to do whatever we want."

  "Okay, I'll go, but only if you take me to the Eiffel Tower," I said, winking at him. I tried to contain my excitement, but it was buzzing on my skin and in the air between us. Heath let out a lungful of air as if he had been holding his breath while he waited for an answer.

  "Of course, Sadie. Good...good," he said, nodding measuredly, but I could hear the happy smiles trying to escape his throat.

  ***

  I found myself scrambling around town that afternoon, getting some last minute things together for the trip. Yeah it was three days, but I have a tendency to pack for a week's worth of clothing for every day of travel.

  On my way back to the house, I was surprised to hear my phone go off with a call from Brock. I hadn't really spoken to him since he left except for a few texts to wish him well when I found out about his injury.

  "Hey!" I was happy to hear from him.

  "Hey Sade. How's it going?"

  "Well, it's been a crazy summer since you left, but all in all, not too shabby."

  "You're working with Hillabrand right?" Apparently they were familiar with each other from the "scene."

  "Yeah. How are you?"

  "Well, it's not great. I'm going to be out next season."

  "Oh my god. I am so sorry!"

  "I'm dealing with it."

  "Well, please let me know if there is anything I can do."

  "Actually, that's why I'm callin'"

  "What's up?"

  "I fucking hate Houston. I want to go back to New York for my recovery and I want you back with me."

  "Oh...when?"

  "I'm coming back in two weeks and I'll be going between New York and Houston for the rest of the year. I'm just not happy there and I don't want to spend the most depressing year of my life there." If I took Brock up on his offer, that would mean an early departure from Heath. Hell, I wasn't even sure what our employment arrangement would be at the end of the summer. All that was aside from whatever this thing was that we had.

  "I need to think about this."

  "I'll pay you whatever you want."

  "I don't understand...why? There are other chefs."

  "They're not you. I miss you, Sade. A lot."

  WHAT?!? This could not be happening right now. Brock had me around for years and now he was...What? Trying to tell me he missed me? And if he meant it in the way the tone of his voice indicated (not just that he missed my special roasted quail), him offering to pay me whatever I wanted felt very prostitute-ish.

  "Well I miss working with you too. You're like a brother to me, but I'm not sure what I want to do." Whatever Brock thought might be between us, other than friendship, had vanished long ago. "This is all very sudden. You know I'll need some time to think about it."

  "Of course. Just let me know when you've made your decision. I really want you to come back though."

  "Alright. I'll talk to you soon."

  I knew the smart thing to do was to sit with the news for the rest of the week so I could process these new developments. But the truth was as soon as I hung up, I already knew the answer in my gut. If Heath asked me to stay, I would not be returning to work with Brock.

  ***

  The next morning was a mess, the car service was late and I scrambled to get ready for the last-minute trip, but we got in the car with just enough time to hopefully make our flight. We were halfway to the airport when I realized I had forgotten something.

  "Shit, where is my phone? I thought I put it in here..." I scrambled trough my purse. "Oh shit! I left it on the kitchen counter after talking to Nonna. Dammit!" From my level of panic, you'd a thunk I just found out I was on the no-fly list.

  "There's no time to go back. We'll only be gone for three days and everything is squared away with Nonna, right?" The way Nonna sweetly rolled off of his tongue made me want to purr at him like a pussycat.

  "Yes. The nurse said she has a mild cough, she gets allergies. But we spoke and she said she feels fine."

  "Everything will be fine," he said calmly.

  It was small things like this that I could see blossoming in us. Heath was the yin to my yang. I got stressed easily, and he trusted that things would work themselves out. I was generally skeptical and distrustful of people, Heath had a gazillion associates. I could be cautious (some might call that uptight), Heath went with the flow.

  "We can get you a throwaway or you can just borrow my phone while I'm at the shoot. I usually shut it off when
I'm there anyway. I'll give you the number of the director for an emergency." He put his hand on my thigh, and the tension released from my body.

  Dating Mark was a good thing after all. I was beginning to understand that you don't know anyone until you really know them. I had taken Mark at face value and assumed he was a gentleman, and I had written off Heath as soon as he answered the door. And yet yesterday, there was only one guy who proved he would never let anyone hurt me. Now don't get me wrong, I was still cautious, but I decided that Heath might just deserve a chance. Baby steps.

  ***

  Paris, ah Paris! I should have known that I would be a goner. It is the city of romance, outdoor cafes, beautiful architecture, and art. First, we arrived at the Four Seasons. Heath had told me we would be staying at the Presidential Suite (which I was super excited about), but unbeknownst to me, he upgraded to the Penthouse.

  It was a-fucking-mazing. The bathroom was covered in seamlessly-veined tile and was the size of my entire apartment in NYC. In its center was a deep soaking tub with a chromatherapy feature and a tiled ledge crowded with subtly fragranced candles. Our private balcony had an outdoor dining area and a dreamlike view of Paris; I felt like I could reach out and touch the Eiffel Tower if I tried hard enough. The room had an airy Parisienne feel: mostly ivory upholstery and bedding with touches of light blue and green. The opulence was in the details, fine crystal candleholders, glints of gold in the furniture and fixtures, carefully tended arrangements of flowers, intricately carved French doors, and mirrored dressers. While the room was contemporary, there were light hints of French baroque inspiration here and there, serving as a constant reminder we were in fact, in Paris. My perverted side noted that both the headboard and the wall behind it were padded, as if they built this room with our rage-sex in mind.

  We were both exhausted, and Heath had a predawn wakeup for the shoot the next day, so we agreed to an early bedtime. I took a very quick shower to wash the travel scum off of my body, but could barely keep my eyes open under the warm spray of the shower. Emerging from the bath with an enormous plush towel wrapped around my head, I found Heath already in bed. He was tucked under the covers, wearing just his boxers, reading one of the books about Paris thoughtfully left on the night stand. He had taken a quick shower before me, and his hair had already dried into soft, fluffy, golden waves. I hadn't thought about what it would be like for us to sleep together like this. We did it once, when he was still wrapped in casts, but that was pre-sexual relations Heath and Sadie and things had changed drastically since then. I watched him for a little while, pretending to towel-dry my hair, partly because I loved watching the way the center of his brow crinkled a little when he concentrated and partly because I was nervous.

  "Well, are you coming to bed or what?"

  I slid in next to him, unsure of how to navigate this, but he wrapped his arm around me without even lifting his eyes from the book, dug his nose into my hair and kissed my temple. Tread lightly Sadie.

  "So many things to do. I've been all over the world, but so many times I just fly in and out of a country without even experiencing it."

  "Well that's sad."

  "Yeah, I am going to try and remedy that, starting with this trip."

  "Thank you for inviting me."

  "Thanks for coming. Can I ask you something? I've been thinking about it for a while now, and it's been nagging at me."

  I shifted to look him in the eyes. "Sure."

  "You know the night with Josh, when we were playing the music?" I knew what he was going to ask. "I know you got upset with me..."

  "No...listen, I am sorry about the way I reacted. I wasn't mad at you. God I feel like such a bitch."

  "Talk to me. What happened?"

  "It was the song and it was my fault for asking."

  "Yesterday?"

  I nodded.

  "My dad used to play the guitar too and he used to play that all the time. My mom would sing along. It's pretty much one of the only things I remember vividly."

  "I see."

  "And...I might regret saying at some point seeing you don't need any more boosts to your ego, but you sang it beautifully."

  "I knew you liked my voice. Chicks dig the guitar too," he said with a conceited smirk.

  "See! This is exactly what I meant!"

  "I'm kidding!" I snickered at him. "I didn't mean to upset you."

  "No it was nice. It was a pleasant sadness. I hadn't felt my father's presence in a long time." Instinctively, I nuzzled my head on his shoulder. The moment was pulling me in and I couldn't fight it. "Do you remember your parents?"

  He closed the book, rested it on his lap, and sighed. "No...my dad was never around and then my mother went to jail when I was 5. Then she died of an overdose when I was about nine, but I hadn't seen her since before she went to jail. She's a blur."

  "Oh my god, I am so sorry."

  "It is what it is, right? I bounced around for a while, but then I got lucky with the last family."

  I felt a pit of shame in my stomach for how I had judged him. I had made assumptions about how easy his life and circumstances were. I assumed his success was solely due to luck without ever considering his character or work ethic might have something to do with it. Heath wasn't Kenneth, or the other guys before him. He never had a fair trial, I just collected evidence to suit my hypothesis.

  After some comfortable silence I quietly spoke. "Heath, while I may not have been a fan of your tactics, thank you for having my back with Mark."

  There was no response. I looked over to find Heath asleep, a look of calm on his beautiful face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The jet lag wiped me out. I didn't hear Heath preparing to leave and only stirred when I felt him brush his fingers against my cheek and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

  When I finally woke up I found a note on top of the book he was looking through last night.

  Sadie,

  I'll be gone until about 8pm. You know that I've been to Paris quite a bit throughout my career, so I thought I would plan a special day for you with my insider connections. My cell phone is on the entry table, number of the shoot director is under Evelyn in case of emergency. I set the alarm on my phone so you had time to get ready. Don't curse me if it wakes you up unexpectedly.

  My driver will be waiting outside for you at 10am and he's all yours until 7pm.

  Here's your itinerary:

  - Have a croissant. You MUST. You are in Paris!

  - The driver will first take you to Colette. I know you love fashion. I have a friend there who is expecting you. Her number is in my phone under Celeste, just in case. (I hope you don't mind, I know how you feel about people.)-Joking! Something tells me I will feel a sudden twinge of mystery pain today at work when you read that line.

  - Then you'll go to a spa. Not just any spa. Trust me, your mind will be blown. Celeste will fill you in.

  - I suggest that after the spa, you check out the outdoor market nearby. I know you will love it. The driver or Celeste can direct you.

  Save the Eiffel Tower for me.

  Your Rotten Scoundrel (I think that's the one thing you haven't called me yet. So take that!),

  Heathy

  His sign-off made laugh to myself. He was right, and I was a little envious I hadn't thought of that one yet and he HATED when I called him Heathy. I was completely blown away by Heath's attention to detail. I was so used to cooking for him and helping him with his plans, that I never expected that he would be the one to map out such a thoughtful and personalized day for me. Just as I put the note down, the alarm on both his phone and the clock went off and I almost fell out of the bed. In true Heath style, he picked the most obnoxious alarms and put them on full volume. I tried my best to send him those telepathic pain signals he mentioned in the note.

  Anticipating the need for comfort, I wore a flowing white maxi dress, belted at the waist with a thin red belt and a comfortable pair of flat sandals. I loosely braided my hair and sele
cted an orchid from the vase on my nightstand, pinning it above my ear. I arrived in the lobby at 9:30am, with just enough time to grab a croissant at a cafe just down the street. When I returned to the hotel, there was a black Mercedes at the curb. A young man dressed in all black except for a white shirt addressed me.

  "Mademoiselle Sadie Lee?" He had the most adorable French accent.

  "Oui," I said, feeling like a massive dork.

  "My name is George. Monsieur Heath has told me all the plans of your day. Allow me to take you to Colette."

  Colette, was a...department store? I wasn't quite sure what to call it, it had a much hipper feel than a Bergdoff's or even a Barney's. In fact, from the exterior, it looked like a large art gallery. George opened the door for me and a slim blonde in a boat neck cream summer sweater, a leather mid-thigh length skirt, and a pair of black and cream flat oxfords smiled across the room at me. Her look was punctuated with a bright coral pouch and matching necklace. She epitomized the effortless style one thinks of when they think of Paris.

  "Sadie?" she asked. I've got to admit, my name is pretty fucking adorable in a French accent.

  "Yes. Celeste?"

  "Yes!" she said, embracing me with a light kiss on each cheek. "You must be very special. Heath wanted me to take good care of you."

  "Oh, well thank you so much for doing this." I blinked, and laughed. "What exactly are we doing?"

  She laughed too, tossing her barely shoulder-length pin-straight blond hair over her shoulder. "That's right, it's a surprise! I am a stylist here. We met a few years ago when I was just an assistant, but I have since worked up to head stylist. We often work together when Heath comes to Paris. Usually when he does Vogue shoots, but sometimes others too." I couldn't help but wonder if she was a friend like Illy or a friend like Mindy. She was definitely cute, and I wasn't sure if Heath would think about how pairing me up with a former fuck buddy might make me feel. "This is my specialty, so he wanted me to dress you up! He says you love clothes, no?"